


St George's Day

by running_in_circles



Series: The Lion and the Tiger [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Affection, Celebrations, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, History, Love, St George's Day, probably more fluff than you thought i did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/running_in_circles/pseuds/running_in_circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>21st-23rd April 2015. England doesn't usually celebrate his day. India decides to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	St George's Day

**Author's Note:**

> So inbetween writing more angsty England/India for Disapproval, writing a British Isles fic and writing a France and Germany thing, this fluffy thing was born. Make of that what you will, but I needed to write some light-hearted stuff.

"England, why don't you celebrate St George's Day?" crackles India's voice.

The question is so unexpected that England utters an astonished "Sorry?" to the phone in his hand.

He is lying on the lawn in the back garden of his Berkshire house, mostly because he'd felt one of his urges to go wandering in the woods around the county and partly because the garden was large enough that neighbours wouldn't hear him talking on the phone and catch hints about the fact he was an immortal being.

"St George's Day." she says again. "Ireland told me you hardly ever celebrate it," her voice is accompanied by soft thuds as she packs things into her suitcase. Her plane is due to land at Heathrow tomorrow afternoon and she had only really realised her need to pack a few hours before departure, to England's amused exasperation.

"I do celebrate!" says England, a little defensively.

There is skepticism in India's silence as she packs something especially crackly into her suitcase.

"I went to a parade last year!" he adds when her silent disbelief becomes too loud to ignore.

"Really?" she is amused now.

"Yes, really!" he insists, rolling onto his stomach in the tepid April grass.

"Did Cameron make you go or did you go of your own volition?" she asks mildly.

"That's completely irrelevant!"

She laughs her musical laugh.

"India, I have fought in every war we've been in and I even went through the pain of watching the World Cup last year. I've fulfilled my flag-waving and anthem-mumbling duties."

She laughs again, "Not all of us mumble our anthems, you know."

"Well, it's not even my bloody anthem any more, is it? I have to share it."

"With your dear brothers, yes." He can hear her smiling. He combs his fingers rather aggressively through a patch of neatly-mown grass.

"But to get back to what I was saying," she says, and he hears the suitcase zip being pulled closed, "we should do something the day after tomorrow - it's your special day."

"You'll only get here tomorrow evening; you'll be tired."

India only snorts at that.

"Fine, we'll go out for dinner or something."

She sighs. "But it's _your_ day. We should celebrate you. We should do something _English_."

"There's nothing particularly un-English about dinner."

"Come on, England, you like being English far more than you're letting on."

England rolls onto his back again and closes his eyes against the warm red glow of the sun.

"You know, the 23rd of April is supposed to be Shakespeare's birthday too," he tells her, trying to steer the conversation into favourable winds.

She takes his hint, "Well then we _have_ to celebrate!"

He smiles, his eyes still closed, "We could go and watch one of his plays - if," he adds, a smirk in his voice, "a Shakespeare play is English enough for you."

He imagines her rolling her eyes. "It's so English it should drink tea and read the newspaper in its dressing gown," she promises.

England laughs. 

"Is there anything else you want to do?" she asks.

England stops laughing abruptly and opens his eyes to the glare of the sun. "You want more?"

"I know it's your day and all so you won't want to spend the whole day with just me - "

"Of course I do!" England interjects.

India breathes a smile, "Well, we can decide what else do to when you pick me up."

"You want to go more English than the tea and the newspaper and the dressing gown?" 

"Yes," she laughs, "we'll talk about it tomorrow. You know what time the plane lands, don't you?"

Her reason for calling, had in fact been to make sure he knew the time (England had had it on his cork board of to-do lists for a week) but it had become the start of an hour-long conversation, as was so often the case when they called each other.

England assures her that he knows and they say their goodbyes. He lets the phone plop onto the grass beside him, stretches languidly and turns on his side, head on his arms. It was far too nice a day to go back inside.

Maybe, he thinks hopefully, the weather would break and it would rain and he could persuade India to stay inside and drop her ideas of celebration. A miserable day in April wasn't too much to ask for, was it? He could stick a flag in his window and be done with it. India could live with that, he was sure.

England has an inkling as to why India is so enthusiastic about St George's Day. India is every bit as ceremonious as he is (he can barely throw away so much as an old letter without getting nostalgic) but she goes further than he does and _celebrates_. She waves flags whenever she has the chance, she sets off fireworks for the neighbourhood children every Divali and delights in the sounds as much as they do and she spatters herself with colour every Holi, her eyes and hands dancing with life. England suspects that she wants a day that she can celebrate with him. It was how she expressed her love, he thinks, given that she couldn't explicitly say such words without grimacing. Her Independence Day and Republic Day were out of the question - as much as England tries to celebrate them and and as much as India appreciates it, they were days for the past. Her festivals and his Christmas were surrounded by their people and their fellow nations. That left only St George's Day as a day for them, England and his people's reluctance to celebrate it leaving the day sufficiently uncrowded.

Although, England thinks, India seemed to want to take full advantage of that fact.


End file.
